I thought I saw you in your Dodge Ram Truck driving by my house. You waved and kept on going. It was not you, you died a few weeks ago. I thought I saw you riding your e-bike past my…
View writingIt suddenly occurred to me this morning : I've lived most of my life in the tangle of a relationship with a man I have now lost to lung cancer two and a half years ago....Paul. Though I have neatly…
View writingI never wanted kids. As a young woman, when I was starting out as a filmmaker, there were plenty of obstacles to my directing films and I knew that having kids would become the biggest obstacle of all. Plus, family…
View writinglost my house lost my memory lost my car lost my photos lost my yearbooks lost my treehouse lost what nature had given me lost my identity lost what I gained lost my structure lost my footing lost my sense…
View writingI’m never at a loss for words. Since i got into the habit of writing in journals, filling many invitingly blank white pages, when i was as young as 15 years old, and since i hooked into a great creative…
View writingIt was a guessing game. Annette would not tell Peter what it was. She claimed if he had “instincts” about her—as he claimed to have—he’d realize what was important for her to possess, distressing for her to have lost. He’d…
View writing"So you have come before me to tell me you had captured the shifter child you were sent to rescue. This is regular court business. Why have you requested a private audience?" The clear, rounded-smooth words of the Queen rang…
View writing"Benny," I said, in a whisper-shout because court would be in session at any moment. "Yeah." Gruff and manly, that's how I like them. Not a whisper or a shout, just a grunt of a quick, staccato reply. "She's here,"…
View writingBefore it was fake, it was news. News has always been fake to a certain extent. Yellow journalism at turn of the century. All fake. News of the Gulf of Tonkin incident that got the US into Vietnam. Fake. Nixon…
View writingMy Grandson is learning to talk. He doesn’t know it yet, he’s just being companionable, repeating back to us our nonsensical syllables in delightful squawks and gurgles and inexplicably encouraging and saliva filled Bronx cheers. I love his talk. I…
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